I Dream of A Last Waltz
by Cerulean PenFoil
Summary: He dances the night away with his lovely Italy. A night where everything is a dream, and in his hands is a deck brush. HRExChibitalia


**A/N: **Extremely short. This was inspired by a classmate of mine while he was sweeping the corridors, and I couldn't help but imagine HRE in that one episode.

Please don't forget to review, no matter how silly this fic is…

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia. If I did, Chibitalia would really be a girl.

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><p>Holy Roman Empire had no idea why someone decided to play a waltz piece. He really didn't understand why someone even wanted to play such kind of music when they were all going to war, but if it meant a time to relax and forget their circumstances than he would willingly turn his mind away from troubling matters.<p>

His heart was lonely, he longed for his dear Italy who was waiting for his return. Slipping away from the men congregating in their makeshift camp, he headed towards his own quarters with only a lamp to guide his way in the darkness.

Quietly, he rummaged through his belongings thrown haphazardly in a corner with some other supplies. And there he found it. The deck brush. Italy's deck brush! Holy Roman Empire gingerly picked the brush up from where it lay and cradled it in his arms. This was his beloved Italy's gift to him.

Her sweet smile flashed in his mind, the way she seemed to beam at him like an angel. The music that was her voice! His heart fluttered and his ears rang at the memory of such a beautiful sound. Feeling the faintest blush cross his face, he nervously swallowed as he looked straight ahead.

There she was, right before his eyes! The waltz echoed in the distance, but it was louder in his ears. And as the notes of the music drifted into his room, he drew the brush closer.

"_May I have this dance_?"

They take off in a world of their own, Italy smiling happily at him, making his heart leap. Holy Roman Empire held her hand gently, allowing the tiniest of smiles to grace his features as he hoped the blush on his face wasn't all too noticeable. Oh how sweet to be with the girl he loved! They swayed to the music, twirling around the room in a blissful fervor. The sounds of the waltz piece highlighted by Italy's amused giggles.

Time seemed to have flown by, and he didn't care as long as Italy was with him. Forget the war, forget everything! If only he could stay like this with his beloved forever.

And then suddenly, he miscalculated a step and lost his balance, accidentally stepping on dear Italy's foot in the process. Holy Roman Empire's eyes widened in horror at his mistake. He was dancing so beautifully with her, and here he had made a fool of himself and tripped on her foot. What kind of gentleman was he to do such an embarrassing thing before a lady? _The man leads the dance,_ Austria mentioned to him once, and now it simply would not do to make such a mistake.

A silent panic seized him as he wondered if he hurt Italy. Why did he have to be so clumsy when it came to her? By now they had stopped completely, staring at each other without saying anything. The silence was unnerving, Holy Roman Empire forced the heated blush of embarrassment away from his cheeks, and before he knew it he was hastily brushing dust off of his coat and apologizing to his stunned dance partner, sweet Italy.

When he looks back up to face her, his heart very nearly stops.

Right there in the center of the room he realizes in an equal amount of horror and shame that the lady he cradles in his arms is no more. Italy is no more. Holy Roman Empire stands frozen as he stiffly holds a deck brush in his arms. The cold reality starts to seep in that he was merely fantasizing, that his dear beloved Italy was truly not there, that they never did have a dance together. In his arms was her deck brush, which his lonely heart and mind had substituted for his one true love.

How many minutes had passed? Was it even an hour since he was in that dream dance? He had never danced with the love of his life, everything that occurred was but a dream, a childish fantasy of his that came about with the playing of a waltz. His ears strained to pick up the fading notes until it finally stopped and allowed the silence of the night to take over once again. He snapped his head left and right; oh the shame if someone had witnessed everything that had conspired in that room!

He settles the deck brush back where he had first picked it up, his mind lingering on his dream a little longer. The giggles continue to ring in his ears, her sweet smile flashes in his eyes, and he still feels her body against him, her hands entwined in his own. Holy Roman Empire slowly sinks to the floor, his eyes shut tight as he imagines Italy for the last time in his arms.

Even if it was only an event conjured by his homesick, lovesick mind, Holy Roman Empire lets a small smile slip on his face for a moment.

_At least I had a waltz with you, my love. A wonderful dream of a waltz._


End file.
